Christmas at the Mansion
by Wolvertique
Summary: Set in my personal X-Universe, here is how Christmas might be at Charles Xavier's school
1. Here Comes Santa Claus

Part 1 = Here Comes Santa Claus?   
  
Packages had been piling up under the tree at Xavier's School for the Gifted, because most of its students lived there year-round. Guards had also, reluctantly, been posted over the gifts after someone opened up a SuperSoaker early and effectively ended the pyrokinesis class.   
  
There were only five more days until Christmas, and classes had been cancelled this afternoon due to snow. Bobby Drake watched it fall, sending flakes into peoples' eyes, and creating more, until a well-bred voice caused him to turn around.   
  
"Santa Claus is a mutant, of course," said Beast to one of the children, lowering his large blue head to hers. "How else could he survive at the North Pole?"   
  
Bobby grinned and decided to take part. He cleared his throat and looked very serious. "That's right. I couldn't survive at the North Pole unless I was a mutant."   
  
The girl turned from one to the other, with a skeptical look on her face that would make Susan Walker, the daughter in Miracle on 34th Street, proud. "Bobby, you're not Santa," she said smugly. "You don't have white hair or reindeer, or anything."   
  
Bobby smiled. "Every December 24, I age about 60 years, start sagging, and become amazingly attractive to reindeer."   
  
"And, of course," Beast rejoined, "you see his elf all the time." He gestured to the window, where Kurt was helping some of the others build some strange structure out of snow.   
  
Bobby let out a snicker at that one, and the girl nodded. "See, I knew you weren't Santa."   
  
He struggled for control, but couldn't help letting out laughs between words. "No, I really am. Trust me. Ho ho ho. See?"   
  
She rolled her eyes. Bobby couldn't contain his laughter any more, and even Beast finally broke up. "Come on," the girl said impatiently to the two mutants rolling on the floor, tears in their eyes from laughing so hard. "I want a good snowball fight with you." They finally got up and ran out the door to play at last.


	2. Santa's Helpers

****

Part 2 = Santa's Helpers?  
  
Outside, things were proceeding much as expected. The more mischievous students and X-men were having violent snowball fights. Others were making snow mutants and other things out of snow. A few kids were making a sledding run down a haphazardly crafted snow hill.   
  
Only a few people remained inside, and they were mainly discussing Christmas plans for the kids and the adults. "Now," Storm began, "who is going to be Santa Claus this year?"   
  
"I don't want to sound too old-fashioned, but it will probably have to be one of the men," said the professor. "Three years ago, we tried having a female Santa...remember?"   
  
Rogue nodded. "I managed to survive it, but I wouldn't recommend that someone else try it. My hair eventually turned back to its normal color, though."   
  
"Did anyone volunteer? Other than Kurt?" Scott asked.   
  
Storm sighed and shook her head no. "Isn't there anyone else? I hate having to rely on just one person every year."   
  
"How about Beast?" Rogue stretched out her neck.   
  
"He can't. He's going to be cooking, or in his words, 'performing a different kind of chemistry than my usual experiments.'"   
  
"Then why not just go with Kurt?" Scott moved his hand to Rogue's neck, massaging it gently.   
  
Storm scratched off an item from her list. "Fine. That leaves us with guard duty to sort out for the 24th and 25th, and then we're done."   



	3. Blue Christmas?

****

Part 3 - Blue Christmas?  
  
Wolverine had been preparing this snowball for about five minutes. It was solid ice now in his tingling hands. He took careful aim and hit the tree branch above Kurt. Kurt had about five seconds to say, "Ha ha! You missed me..." before most of the rest of the snow on the tree fell on him.   
  
Logan grinned. "Tactics, elf. You need to work on your tactics." He extended a hand to Kurt, who was dramatically pretending to drown in the snow. "So, we still on for the 24th, or did you find another ride this year?"   
  
Kurt's happy demeanor fell away, and he pulled away from Logan. "I don't know," he said flatly. "I don't think I'm going this year."   
  
"Not going? What, you crazy? You always go to church on the 24th." He dropped down beside Kurt and stretched out in the snow.   
  
Kurt wrapped his arms around his legs for comfort. "I know. I go to a Unitarian Universalist church. Fifty miles away. Because it's the only one where I can go without being stoned or 'politely' told to leave." He frowned. "No one out there seems to do what they did in London in the 1800s, 'open their shut-up hearts to each other freely.' Besides, even at the church I get some odd looks, some parents grabbing their kids as I go by, for they only attend at Christmas and don't know I'm a member."   
  
Logan shrugged. "It's still a church. They sing Christmas carols and all that, don't they?"   
  
Kurt's lips twitched gently, but he did not laugh. "Sort of. They change the lyrics some, taking out the more offensive words." He smiled then, sadly. "I always sing the original words. It startles some."   
  
Logan raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know they were allowed to do that. Next thing you know, they'll be changing the Bible too."   
  
Kurt nodded. "Well, they accept non-Christians, atheists, and mutants. They have no problem changing anything they don't like."  
  
"Huh." Logan thought a moment. "Sounds like that's one church that isn't useless."   
  
Kurt hugged his knees. "They aren't useless, but even there, some people worry about mutants. They also are regularly vandalized."   
  
"Figures. Well, get up." Logan leaped to his feet and waited.   
  
Kurt unfolded and rose from the snow, shaking it from his short fur. "What are we going to do?"   
  
"We're gonna figure out what you're doing for Christmas Eve, elf." Logan started loping toward the mansion, and Kurt leaped along beside him. When they reached the door, Kurt ventured, "Logan?"   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"What do you do?"   
  
"Hmmm?" Logan opened the door and went in.   
  
Kurt followed. "Well, you drop me off, and then I don't see you until after the party at the minister's house. What do you do during that time?" Kurt's eyes gleamed with interest as he looked down at Logan.   
  
Logan remained silent as the door closed and they finished removing their snow covered gear. Finally, he said, "Maybe I'll tell you later." 


	4. The Xmen Who Came In From the Cold

****

Part 4: The X-Men who Came In from the Cold  
  
The last box was finally wrapped. It wasn't easy finding presents for everyone, but Kitty had finally found appropriate ones. She hoped.   
  
Now she was joining a few of the others who'd come in early from the snowball fight to get cider, hot cocoa, and treats ready. Then they'd sit around the fire and read Christmas stories. She had prepared a special surprise ahead of time. She had learned all of "The Boy Who Laughed at Santa Claus" by Ogden Nash, and was going to perform it for everyone.   
  
The lines got mixed in with her efforts to prepare the goodies.   
  
_In Baltimore, there was a boy..._ Good. The cider was where she had left it in the fridge, and only a few people had tasted it before she managed to get it into a large pot on the stove. _In school, he never led the classes. He hid old ladies' reading glasses._ That wasn't like any student here, of course. She grinned. Now, where was the milk for the cocoa?   
  
_He said he acted thus because there wasn't any Santa Claus._ That was just silly. Of course there was a Santa Claus, just like there was hope, love, and joy at Christmas. Two tablespoons of cocoa, some sugar, and some special add-ons for the adults. She had bought some Godiva Liqueur this year as a special treat to spice things up. Speaking of spices, had she put the cinnamon into the cider?   
  
_Slunk like a weasel or a marten through nursery and kindergarten, whispering low to every tot, "There isn't any! No, there's not!"_ Darn it. She added the spices at last and stirred the liquid. Oh, and she couldn't forget the muffins either. She got out as many as she could cram onto a plate and stuffed it into the microwave. The whipped butter was next.   
  
_The children wept all Christmas Eve..._well, more likely they'd complain, if she forgot to get enough cups together for their drinks. She loaded cups, plates, knives, napkins, and a few extra sprigs of holly onto a cart and ran them down to the room.   
  
_No infant dared hang up a stocking for fear of Jabez' ribald mocking._ There were tons of stockings hanging up, of course, including hers. She mechanically arranged the things she had brought on the already groaning table and then ran back to check on ... THE COCOA! Rats. It was boiling. She turned down the heat and stirred it vigorously.   
  
_When presently, with scalp a-tingling, Jabez heard a distant jingling._ The microwave beeped, signaling that the muffins were ready. She took them out, and then popped more in. She checked the cider again and checked on the cocoa. Well...it wasn't TOO bad. She loaded up the cart and unloaded it again.   
  
_Jabez beheld, oh awe of awes, the fireplace full of Santa Claus._ The fire needed tending. She put on some more wood and then hurried back to the kitchen. The cider was finally ready, and she poured it and the cocoa into separate containers (after a near mistake) and hurried them out to the table. She arranged the holly a little, then headed back to the kitchen.   
  
_"It isn't I, it's YOU that ain't. Although there IS a Santa Claus, there isn't any Jabez Dawes!"_ "WHOA!" she shrieked as she slipped on some ice in the kitchen and fell through the floor. She floated back up into the room, but she was angry. If she had been someone else, she could have been really hurt! She took out a large black marker and spent a few minutes making signs saying "Wipe your feet, PLEASE!" and hanging them up on the doors.   
  
Finally, everything was just about ready. _No trace was found of Jabez Dawes._ She wiped off her hands and looked around the room. Treats, decorations, utensils, all were ready for the cold and hungry crew from outside. She turned around and was surprised by a hard, fast kiss from Bobby. "Hey!" she managed to get out before he kissed her again and stepped back, smiling.   
  
"What was that for?" she asked, trying to sound annoyed but, she had to admit, failing.   
  
"Can't a man just want to kiss you?" he said in an overly innocent tone. Her eyes narrowed, and she looked up at the ceiling in suspicion. Great. Some joker had hung mistletoe up there, and there was no way she could reach it.   
  
She walked away before Bobby could grab her again, prompting an "Awwww....you're no fun" from him. _The saucy boy who told the saint off. The child that got him, licked his paint off._


	5. Kurt's Revelation

****

Christmas Eve: Kurt's Revelation  
  
Kurt sat by the window with a cup of tea, disappointed. Oh, he had enjoyed playing with the children earlier, and opening the Advent calendar, and all the usual Christmas Eve activities. He loved seeing all his friends together.   
  
Logan was the problem. After they had gotten warmed up by the fire, four days ago, Logan got a gleam in his eye and told him he had business to take care of. Yesterday was the first time Kurt had seen him since then, and Logan refused to tell him what, if anything, he had planned. He'd laugh, or tell him to be patient, and finally this morning to "have faith, already."   
  
That had driven Kurt to sulk by the window with tea, to keep Kitty from offering him her awful leftover cocoa. He was already feeling miserable enough...he didn't need a stomach ache as well.   
  
A weary voice said, from his left, "Hey, Kurt? You okay?"   
  
"Bobby?" The Iceman stood in the doorway, leaning against it for support. He looked dreadful, as drained as Kurt had ever seen him. Instantly, all of Kurt's problems dropped away. "You look...are you okay, mein freund?"   
  
Bobby forced a smile and gave a short laugh, rubbing his face. "I guess they'll believe me now when I tell them I age forty years every Christmas Eve, won't they?"   
  
Kurt rolled his eyes. Bobby had been playing his "I Am Santa Claus" trick at every possible opportunity, until two days ago. Hm. Had Bobby been on a mission? "What have you been doing?"   
  
He sighed. "Kurt, I have been working my ass off, and I think the only way to get it back is to go to my room and sleep for eight days. So I'm gonna." He stumbled and nearly fell, but Storm swiftly appeared and steadied him.   
  
"Don't worry, Kurt. I will take care of him. He was supposed to let me know when he was back." This was said pointedly to the wilting man in her arms, who smiled sleepily at her and waved to Kurt as she carried him off.   
  
After fifteen minutes more, as he was trying to choose a video to occupy his time, Logan stuck his head into the room. "Hey, kid. How ya doin'?"   
  
_I will not let him get to me. I will not. I will not._ "Fine," he snapped back.   
  
"Hm. Sounds like ya aren't in the mood for a little surprise I got together for ya. That's okay. I'm sure you'd rather watch," he paused for a moment, "_Rugrats Christmas_..."   
  
Kurt dropped the tape and stood up. "No, no. That's okay."   
  
"Nah. Don't want to spoil your fun."   
  
"Logan," Kurt nearly growled, "I'm ready to see it now."   
  
Logan shrugged. "If you say so. You're gonna need to get your coat on."   
  
Kurt put on a coat, then, at Logan's urging, a thick hat and boots and a scarf as well. He followed the man out onto the grounds, walking until they reached an opening into one of the vast stretches of wilderness on the school property.   
  
"This is where I leave you. Follow the trail and ya can't go wrong. Keep quiet and move slow and steady. Oh, and keep this in your pocket." He tossed Kurt a small metal device that looked insanely complicated. "Compliments of Beast."   
  
Kurt slowly put the thing into his coat pocket. "Thank you."   
  
Logan nodded. "Merry Christmas." He turned and walked away, and Kurt entered the wilderness.   
  
There was no cleared trail, but there were footprints to follow...they were Jean's! He walked slowly, inhaling the cold crisp air, and followed in her footsteps until they ended by a rock. He leaped onto the rock and waited quietly.   
  
After a few minutes, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He remained still, and soon a deer moved into his field of vision, followed by her fawn. The light seemed to focus in on them, and he looked up to see clouds clearing away and moving to different places in order to better pick out the doe for him. He smiled. Storm must have gotten Bobby to bed all right.   
  
The two animals moved toward him, eating steadily, until they were nearly under his hand. He dared a gentle touch on the adult's head, and she started and ran. She was warm and wild. He felt joy welling up from within and decided to look beyond the rock for the next clues to follow.   
  
About thirty feet out and to the west, he found some prints made by someone's boots and followed them. A sound reached him first, a tinkling, sparkly sound of ... running water? A warm stream of water rose out of the ground in the small clearing ahead and ran out to the east, and green, fresh smelling earth filled his head and heart with hope for spring. This, too, was its own place of beauty. He enjoyed it for a few minutes, and then returned to picking out the next trail.   
  
He almost missed it. A load of snow had fallen from a tree and obscured the beginning, but he saw the marks of small clawed toes to one side...Lockheed?   
  
Lockheed's trail was hard to follow, especially since the small creature had apparently decided to fly a couple times, forcing him to cast about to find it. But he did, and soon heard a faint sound and saw beautiful colored light ahead.   
  
He stopped at the edge of the large clearing and sank to his knees, his mouth open, tears leaking from his eyes. The place had been transformed. Ice, much of it colored, filled in many of the gaps between trees, imitating stained glass windows. Snowy figures of saints were present with flickering (and, sadly, extinguished) candles before them. Fallen branches and trees had become a makeshift crêche, holding figures of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus. Ice prisms flickered this way and that as Storm highlighted the ice angels, each with one real Angel feather...the small stone with a Communion cup and a Christmas cookie on it...the forest animals wandering up to the crêche and eating the food that had been put there for them...Lockheed perched proudly above the crêche, breathing fire at strategic moments...and the wooden sign, hanging up above the arched entrance Kurt had approached, carved by claws, saying "All Mutants Welcome Here." Banshee and Siryn's voices sang quietly, ringing from the icy prisms in the clearing, old Christmas carols in German.   
  
Bathed in the love of God as shown by his dear, dear friends, Kurt wept and prayed and sang quietly, filled with joy, without realizing that time was passing.   
  
He finally noticed he was cold, and would have been colder if Lockheed hadn't been near him, warming him, when Sean's voice broke off from singing and told him to come back to the mansion. He followed Lockheed out and spent the next few hours tracking people down and thanking them, warmed by his memory of the forest.   
  
Logan was not to be found anywhere, and no one knew where he was, other than that he wasn't at the mansion. He did, however, leave a note on Kurt's pillow saying, "You're welcome, and remember that supposedly your God created the world outside of your church, too."


End file.
